Finlay Donovan Knocks 'Em Dead(Finlay Donovan #2)(52)

“Did he tell you how he found it?”

Nick’s lips twitched, curling up on one side. “He says he stumbled on it by accident.”

“You don’t believe him?”

“Seventeen-year-old hackers don’t stumble into women’s chat rooms by accident. He probably boosted some unsuspecting lady’s phone and found it while he was rooting around in her accounts.”

“Do you believe any of it?”

Nick shrugged as he turned back onto the highway. “He knew I was working the Zhirov case. I’m guessing he found a few moms selling Xanax online and figured he’d make a quick buck off me while Joey’s out of town. The kid’s going to send me everything he found tomorrow. It should only take the cyber guys a few days to flush it out. It’s probably nothing.”

I rested my head against the window as we reached the interstate. I had to call Cam before he sent those leads to Nick. But Cam’s number was in my phone, and my phone was with Theresa.

Or, more likely, it was buried in a shallow grave with Carl.





CHAPTER 23


My mind was still spinning when Nick pulled into a parking space in front of a strip mall in Arlington. The name on the red awning of the restaurant said KVASS, and white lights glittered from the potted evergreens flanking the door. Rich, savory smells wafted through it as Nick held it open for me. My stomach rumbled as a host in a suit jacket and tie guided us to our booth.

I slid into the bench across from Nick, only half listening as a ma?tre d’ with a thick accent welcomed us to the restaurant.

“Can I get you anything to drink, miss?” He held a leather folio in front of me. “A bottle of wine, perhaps?”

I flipped open the menu, skimming the drinks, the nervous bob of my knee hidden under the long silk table linens and the dim lighting of the dining room. “I think I’m going to need something stronger.”

“May I suggest the vodka sampler. We have an exceptional selection of—”

“Perfect,” I said, closing the folio and passing it to Nick.

Nick’s mouth quirked up. He glanced at the name badge on the man’s lapel. “Just a beer for me, Sergei. And how about an order of piroshki with that?”

Our host nodded as he lit the single votive in the middle of our table. “Ivan will be your server this evening. He’ll be with you shortly to review this evening’s specials.” I set aside the dinner menu, too distracted to focus on the descriptions of the entrées when Ivan arrived to take our orders. Soft music played. The restaurant hummed with quiet conversations and the dull clatter and hiss of cooking sounds through the service doors from the kitchen. Silver clinked against fancy blue-and-white plates.

Who was I kidding? This was definitely a date.

“Rough day?” Nick asked, ducking his head to catch my eyes.

“You could say that.”

“Things not going well with your new book?”

“Not exactly,” I said as our server slid a tray of gleaming shot glasses in front of me. “I’m pretty sure the entire plot’s gone off the rails.” As soon as the waiter was gone, I downed the first one. My eyes watered, and I quickly chased it with another.

“Maybe I can help,” Nick offered, taking a slow pull off his beer. A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled out of me as I reached for a piroshki. “I’m serious,” he said, toying lazily with the fancy imported bottle in his hand. “Ask me anything.”

“Anything?”

He rested his elbows on the table, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he watched me eat. “Anything.”

It felt like a loaded question. But he was offering. “Okay,” I said, clearing my throat. “So, this website your CI told you about. What happens if the cyber guys find something?”

Nick slumped back in his seat, shaking his head. He set down his beer, threading his fingers behind his neck. “You really want to talk about that?”

“Why not? You offered to help me with research for my book.”

“From what I read, you had the crime angles all figured out. I thought maybe I could help you with the other stuff.”

“What other stuff?”

“You know, the romantic bits.”

I stopped chewing. “What’s wrong with my romantic bits?”

“Nothing.” His gaze fell to the plunging neckline of my dress as he nursed a long, slow sip. “I admit it. That book Pete let me borrow was pretty hot. Especially the part during the stakeout, when she made out with the cop in the front seat of his car, and then she climbed on his lap and—”

“Just dinner.” My face warmed and I slugged down another shot.

He grinned into his beer. “Right. Just dinner.”

His eyes flicked over the room. “I did say you could ask me anything.” I paused, my piroshki poised halfway to my lips as he leaned his elbows on the table and lowered his voice. “If the kid’s right and the forum is being used as a front, we’ll probably send an undercover in. We’ll set up a sting, make a few arrests, and find a canary. Then we’ll dangle a deal in front of them and hope they sing.” Nick leaned back in his seat, lips pressed shut as our waiter approached the table with the rest of our meal. Ivan placed a heaping plate of stroganoff in front of me, and it was all I could do to keep from kissing him.